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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28641354">For No One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holtzmann_lover/pseuds/Holtzmann_lover'>Holtzmann_lover</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Can't Buy Me Love [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yesterday (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Angst, Divorce, F/F, Happy Ending, Therapy, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:40:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28641354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holtzmann_lover/pseuds/Holtzmann_lover</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mistake that Debra makes ruins her marriage, she is forced to go back in time to figure out where it all began.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Debra Hammer/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Can't Buy Me Love [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1468823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For No One</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn't happen often, but when people ask me about my regrets, I yell at them. Of course I have regrets, would I be a human if I didn't? I can’t help but wonder where they get the courage to ask me such a stupid question. But since you asked, I'll tell you. But fuck you for getting in my business. For letting the vulnerable side of me show. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When a car crashed into my mom, breaking every bone in her body, it also crashed into my life. I know life would be different if she were still here. The days spent with my mom were gone. No more window shopping, watching TV together, or even telling my mom that I found a girl that I liked. Instead I got a slap when I didn’t do my homework or a string of cruel words when I said something my dad didn’t agree with. I’m sure he’s the reason I am who I am. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Avery says I need to be nicer to people. And maybe that’s true. Maybe I’m a hard ass. But at the end of the day, what actually gets done when you’re being nice to people? I have learned my lesson from the bruises that formed after my dad didn’t agree with me. Nice gets you nowhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why should I regret what I have? Shit, I’m probably one of the richest people in the country. I must be doing something right. I have a wife who forgives me unconditionally and a daughter who seems to grow more every day. I have more money than I’ll ever need, which makes me happy. A job where I decide what happens. The power that I hold above everyone else reminds me of what I have overcome. And I won’t let anyone take that away from me. With the power that I have, I’m on top of the world. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now since you were nosy enough to ask me about my first, why don’t you ask me about my second too.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Debra: One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A door in the house slams, jolting me awake from my semi conscious state. I look over and roll my eyes when I see that Avery is still asleep. It was Bailey who had slammed the door. Annoyance finds its way to me and I force myself out of bed. I don’t bother looking at the time as I leave the room to see what was happening. I glance at Avery on my way out.  She hasn’t moved an inch. I wonder how she can sleep with an overactive eight year old in the house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I find Bailey rummaging through our kitchen cabinet and I barely acknowledge the panicked look in her eyes as she runs around the kitchen.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bailey!” I snap. “What have I said about slamming doors?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks at me, defeated. “Not to do it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what have you done?” I ask her and then answer for her. “You slammed the door and woke me up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only because I’m late for school,” She said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I look at the time and notice she’s right. School starts in five minutes. Avery would not be happy when she realizes that Bailey was late. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit!” I yell out of frustration and spring into action, trying to get myself ready to drive her. “Did you pack your lunch?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom usually does,” Bailey says and I groan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna have to buy it at school then,” I tell her and I order her to wait as I quickly get ready for the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I rush into my closet, choosing the first blazer that I find to put on. I throw my hair into a bun and brush my teeth before chucking my belongings into a bag for work after I drop Bailey off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Avery mumbles out, sitting up in bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bailey‘s late,” I admit and she instantly rolls her eyes at me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t even have a day off without something going wrong,” Avery mutters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When annoyance makes its way to me again, I can’t help but snap as I walk out the door. “You have a kid, Avery. You don’t get days off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And I walk out the door, without a second glance.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is Mom picking me up?” Bailey asked as I pull up to her school. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I am distracted by my own thoughts but I turn to Bailey. “I won’t be home until after you go to bed, so yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I barely notice Bailey’s sad look as she grabs her backpack and heads off into the building. I pull out of the parking lot and let my thoughts consume me on my way to work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As an agent in the music industry, you’re never early to the studio. Most of my clients are in the studio from the early morning, all the way until late at night. Sometimes even going to a concert and going back to the studio. The work never ends for both sides of the industry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Avery had been losing money lately from the time she’s taken off to be with Bailey. She had been losing </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>money and that was the thing that mattered most. Most agents would have cut her off. We have a job and that job is to manage the people who work in the industry. But Avery isn't working anymore. The last album she had put out was five years ago and that had been leaked. The only string that’s keeping her in the business is that we’re married.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But I don’t trust Avery. Five years ago, our house had been broken into and our relationship has never been the same since. After the dog died, Avery was different. I understood she was sad, but it was more than that. The fights we had gotten into were so big and they had happened so much. It always fell back on me. I wasn’t the one going to Bailey’s school performances or I was never home to help Bailey with her school work. The team we had created had fallen apart. Avery isn’t working in the industry anymore and I wasn’t working at home. Something needed to be done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But I crave money more than anything else. I need money. The money I receive makes me feel whole, accepted, and successful. Without the singers, I wouldn’t be making nearly as much as I do. But they’re good because of me. They put albums out because of me. They go on tour because of me. Their success is because of me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How long have you been here?” I ask my new client as I walk in. She looks exhausted. Like she could fall over any second.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Since five,” She answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wave her out. “Go home. You’re worthless when you’re tired.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I plop into a chair and watch her leave, thankful for the rest. I prepare for another day with another client at the studio. It could be exhausting sitting in a chair all day listening to people sing. But without me, they would be a mess. I was the glue that kept them and their successes together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I listen to singing for the first half of the day, eat lunch, and then sit in silence after making everyone else in the studio go home. I pace back and forth, thinking. I take apart a pen, still thinking. And I fill out paperwork, having come to a conclusion on what needed to be done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the paperwork is finished, I pack up and go home. Anxiety has settled into me, making a home in the pit of my stomach. Avery would be pissed at what I had done. Beyond pissed. I know my wife and what I have done is something that we’ll fight over. But this had been waiting for a long time. It was bound to happen with time. She should expect it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I pull up to the house and walk in, it’s silent. Avery is sitting at the kitchen table, writing in a journal and Bailey is nowhere to be found so I assume she’s in bed. I walk up to Avery and stand in front of her but make sure that there’s a decent amount of space between us, knowing how this conversation will go. My arms are crossed to defend myself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” I tell her and she looks weary. After almost thirteen years of knowing each other, we’re able to read each other well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” She says softly. “Bailey’s getting ready for bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod but I barely register what she had said. “Avery, I have something to tell you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” She asks. The look of fear takes its place on her face and for a moment, I want to tell her nevermind. We can work through this. But I remind myself about the money I am losing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I take a deep breath as I continue to look at her and I tell her the words that will change her life. “I dropped you from the record label. You are no longer a part of this agency.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Debra: Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Avery doesn't look mad. She doesn't look upset. Or surprised. Her face is blank, almost as if she was looking at a stranger. It takes looking at my wife in this moment to make the connection that we don’t know each other anymore. The connection we once had has disappeared. I’m slammed with the reality that I’m on my own again, like I was for the first time when I was fifteen. This makes me more defensive as I back away from Avery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You did what?” Avery asks, but I know she heard me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I cut you from the record label,” I tell her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tears pool in her eyes and she swipes them away. I watch her every move as she stands up and backs away from me as well. We’re only a room away from each other but we might as well be an ocean away as I have never felt so distant from the person who used to be the love of my life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was my life,” Avery said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It clearly wasn’t. When was the last time you actually put out an album? A single?” I challenge her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter,” Avery growls. Her voice was starting to raise. “You took away one of the things that I cared about the most.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You took away what mattered to me. So I guess we both lose,” I shrug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What have you lost?” Avery asks. “I signed my life away for you with that stupid contract that you probably ripped up because I wasn’t making you enough money. The money is what this is about.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Life is just a bunch of contracts. Avery. And you haven’t lived up to yours,” I shrug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I go to the fridge, searching for something to eat. There’s a takeout box of Chinese. Spaghetti that Bailey probably ate for dinner. A leftover smoothie and some grapes. The lack of food reminds me that I need to send someone to grab more groceries. I pop a grape into my mouth as I listen to Avery’s next words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our marriage is just a contract to you?” Avery asks. It’s clear in her voice that she is hurt. “Your name on Bailey’s birth certificate, is that just another legal document, too?.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Our marriage was not something I expected Avery to bring up when I told her about her contract. I expected yelling, or even crying. But Avery has brought up a subject that we hadn’t talked about in months. One that I was not prepared for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand,” Avery said, looking down. I’m not sure if she’s talking about the contract or our marriage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could use a drink, do you want one?” I ask her, going over to grab a glass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would love one,” Avery says and I grab two glasses and some gin. Avery watches me as I mix the drink up, putting extra alcohol in them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I give her one of the drinks. “You’re unreliable. That is why I dropped you from the label.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m unreliable? After being in the business for thirteen years? Putting out an album every year for six years is unreliable?” Avery’s voice got louder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t trust you, Avery!” I yell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I had never said those words before. My actions have only implied what I had said. Avery looks crushed as I confirm what she has thought all along. But she should have expected it. Especially after we lost thirty thousand dollars in the robbery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How should I trust </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Avery shouts. “You’ve cheated on me with my best friend and I accepted you back with barely a blink of an eye!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was like nine years ago, Avery. Let it go!” I snap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let it go? Like how I always let go how absent you are from this family? Who’s the one in this relationship who might as well have raised Bailey?” Avery shouts. “Me! Oh wait, I know why. Because you didn’t want her in the first place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course the words cut into me hard. Bailey is one of the people who I love the most. In fact, she’s one of the only people who I love. But since Avery threw her as a weapon against me, I use her against Avery as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who is the one providing for her? The one who’s working?” I shout back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Avery can’t think of a response, I wait patiently. I take a sip of my drink. Examine the ripped cuticle on my nail. Finish my drink. I sigh impatiently when she stays silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And finally Avery looks up at me with tears streaming down her crushed face, talking at a normal volume. “So I’m just a bad mom, huh? Nothing I’ve done for Bailey matters. Nothing I’ve done for </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>matters. I’ll never be good enough for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shrug. “If you think that being unreliable means that you aren’t good enough, then maybe you aren’t. I could have made a hell of a lot more money in these last five years if maybe you lifted a finger outside of the house.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is ridiculous, Debra. I make more money off royalties than you do. We’re not even close to needing money,” Avery says. She’s not yelling anymore. She sounds tired and done with the fight but she and I both know that the argument won’t end until one of us wins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tiny feet stomp down the stairs and Bailey appears with a blanket wrapped around her. Her hair is messy and she looks like we have woken her up. This is not a new occurrence. Fights have broken out before and ended with a result of waking Bailey up. Usually, Avery would take the young girl back to bed but tonight, neither of us move from our spots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go back to bed, Bailey,” I say sternly. However, Bailey stands her ground and refuses to move from the spot on the stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go to your room, sunshine. I’ll come say goodnight in a minute,” Avery says. She covers her face so Bailey can’t see the tear streaks on her face but her voice gives away everything Bailey needs to know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you crying?” Bailey asks, hugging the blanket closer to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s hard for Avery to come up with an answer for Bailey but she manages to croak an answer out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m just a bit upset. Did you brush your teeth?” Avery asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bailey nods quietly and Avery holds her arms out for a hug. Bailey runs into them to be comforted. Avery gives me a look as she hugs our daughter. When she pulls away, she tells Bailey to go back upstairs. She slams her drink back before glaring daggers at me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>is how you take care of a child. You would know that if you actually wanted her,” She says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How dare you say that after all I’ve done,” I say, pointing angrily at her. “I’m not the only selfish person here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bailey will never mean as much to you as your money does,” Avery says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anger rushes through me. I’ve never been so angry at my wife. Or with anyone. I’m fuming as the words sink in my head at the claim that Avery has made. I’m so angry that without thinking, my hand roughly connects with her cheek.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Debra: Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>We stare at each other in shock after what I’ve done. I’ve even surprised myself with what I’ve done. I’ve never laid a hand on anyone in an aggressive manner before. I back away from Avery, and Avery does the same, touching her stinging cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t come near me,” Avery says softly. Her voice shakes with her words and she looks just as shocked as I feel. Her eyes are wide and I can almost hear her trying to figure out what to do next. I’m still in shock to even listen to her as she backs away from me further. More tears escape down her cheeks. One of them is red now because of me, which makes me step further away from her too, leaving a room between us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m leaving with Bailey,” She tells me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod. If I can’t control my actions, then I don’t want them anywhere near me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s for the best,” I tell her. And then I go to our room until I hear the door slam, announcing their departure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the last few years of my childhood, I was controlled by my dad. What and when I ate. Where I slept. Who I talked to. When I moved out, I had the freedom that I had lost again. I was in control of my life. But now it seems as if I can’t control my actions, which is worse than what I eat being controlled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I find our martini glasses still in the kitchen and I take them to the sink to clean them. I scrub them so hard that they might break in my hands. I dry them and put them in the cupboards before going back upstairs. I don’t bother eating dinner or changing out of my clothes. I simply take off my blazer and hope for sleep to come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But I toss and turn all night, thinking about what I have done. I call Avery and when I’m sent to voicemail, I sigh. Her phone is turned off. Of course it is. Avery always shuts her phone off when she’s upset. So instead, I dig a deeper hole under the blankets and stay there all night. When the sun comes up, I put a different blazer on over the same clothes and head to my home office to work. It’s not long until the front door creaks open and Avery walks in. She’s wearing sunglasses. Avery only wears sunglasses inside when she doesn’t want to be seen. I can’t help but wonder if it’s me she doesn’t want to be seen by.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” She croaks out, leaning against the doorway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” I say back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We need a divorce,” She tells me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words hit me hard. I close my eyes and force the tears to leave. Now is not the time to cry. I take a deep breath. If this is what Avery wants, then she should get it. Besides, I can’t trust myself anymore around her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s about time you have a good idea,” I say. I silently hope that I can stay strong and in control.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have my lawyers send the paperwork over,” She says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great,” I sigh. “I’ll sign them and send them back right away. Don’t worry about Bailey. She’ll be better off with you. I’ll send money every month.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Avery sighs as well and takes her sunglasses off, revealing her puffy eyes from crying before crossing her arms in front of her. I take a minute to breathe before she speaks again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never thought I’d be divorced,” She says softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re telling me,” I say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Avery looks like she’s collecting her thoughts for a minute before finally speaking up again. “So that’s it? We’re just done?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I get up from the chair I’m sitting in but keep the space in between us. “Avery, you and I both know this marriage has been over long before now. You don’t need me and you know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Avery nods. “I just need to get my stuff. And Bailey’s.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My face hardens as I remember a younger me getting rid of all my mom’s stuff. “You have until the end of the week to get it or I’m getting rid of it all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can get rid of mine, but don’t get rid of Bailey’s,” She says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then have it out by the end of the week,” I repeat. I don’t know if I’ll sell it or throw it away but either way it’s  good enough for me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just like you did with your mom’s?” Avery asks, shaking her head. “You have a habit of getting rid of stuff before it needs to be gotten rid of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare bring her up,” I snap. My mom is the quickest way for me to lose it. To end up in tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t take your own medicine?” Avery challenges. “Just face it, Debra. You’re too toxic for a relationship.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom!” Bailey’s voice shouts from the hallway. “I forgot my homework!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Avery freezes as Bailey appears next to her, unsure on what to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I told you to wait in the car,” She tells Bailey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My teacher will be mad if I don’t have my homework,” Bailey whines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go get your homework and leave,” I sigh. “Or just leave now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bailey looks up at me confused. “Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you here,” I shrug. I don’t trust myself around Avery and I sure as hell don’t trust myself around Bailey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bailey’s face looks crushed as I turn away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” She asks in a soft voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I look at Avery, answering Bailey. “Maybe your mom could explain that better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you fucking kidding me, Debra?” Avery snaps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was your idea so you get to explain why,” I say, standing my ground. This is on Avery. Avery is the one who just asked for a divorce. And I will not be the one to tell my daughter why our family is broken. Why I’m two seconds away from crumbling to the ground in tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Debra, that is not what-” Avery starts but Bailey is quick to speak up again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get it,” She says, looking at the two of us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s there not to understand?” I snap. “We’re not a family anymore. Get out.” I point towards the door. My chest is heavy and it’s hard to breathe. I don’t know what Avery is going to say or do next and that scares me the most.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Debra-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get out!” I say but Avery stands still, unsure of what to do. Bailey begins to cry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get out!” I yell this time. I can feel myself about to fall apart but I can’t let them see me break. I refuse to let them. “I don’t want you guys here! Both of you, leave! Go! Bailey, get out!” They’ll be better off without me. Avery has made that clear and for the first time in forever, I agree.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Avery is quick to pick the small child up and rests her on her hip. Bailey is far too old to be picked up but her small frame and the fact that she’s underweight helps Avery a lot. Avery quickly leaves and slams the door, cutting off Bailey’s screams.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sigh and rub my temples, sitting back down. I wasn’t worried too much. Avery couldn’t live without someone else by her side, and even more so, Avery always came crawling back. And when she does, everything will be okay again, everything will go back to normal.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Debra: Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Definition of a toxic person:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anyone whose behavior is draining, unsupportive, and manipulative.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I stare at the words on the computer screen. Reading these words has been like a punch in the gut. My breath has been taken away and I’m finding it hard to breathe as I scroll down Google. I have been called a lot of things in my life. Money-obsessed, a hardass, and a bitch are on top. But before Avery came out and said that I was toxic, those words had never been thrown in my face. My hand covers my mouth as tears appear in my eyes, flowing down my cheeks. A sob escapes my throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now Avery is gone and she took Bailey with her. The only family I have has walked out the door without a second glance. It’s because of me. I know it is. And now that Avery is gone, I don’t know what to do. My heart has picked up in speed and I’m afraid if I don’t clutch onto the desk in front of me, I’ll be knocked to the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, I’m fifteen years old again, trying to survive on my own. There was nothing but crackers to eat. Nothing in my room to entertain me. And no family to comfort me as I mourned the new loss of my mom. Somehow, I have ended up in the same position as I was a little over thirty years ago. And I have no idea what’s going to happen next, which scares me the most.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My fingers shake as I exit the tab with the upsetting information. I try to take deep breaths to control my heart rate. But nothing seems to fix the panic that has settled into me. I pace back and forth to get my thoughts together but they stay in a jumbled mess. I sit down on the ground and I tug at my hair to try to get a grip. But in the end, the only thing that I’m left with is a ripped off fingernail. Eventually, I am able to control my sobs and breathing. I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes to think, trying to forget the migraine that is threatening to pound in my head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Avery, the person who used to be the love of my life, is gone. Bailey is gone. My beautiful daughter who has always made me smile has left because of me. I am a danger to everyone around me. And the only way to fix it is to get rid of everything that I cause harm to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Avery doesn’t return and I don’t see Bailey. Weeks turn into months where I’m all alone. Occasionally, I’ll meet a client at the studio, but most days I work from home, making sure that my clients are still successful. But when I’m not working, I sit on the couch and stare into space, trying to figure out how to survive by myself again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The worst part of the pain is I haven’t even heard her voice. Her soft voice that instantly calms Bailey down. Her beautiful singing voice that makes everyone stop to listen. I haven’t heard it in months and the lack of communication, especially with my daughter, is crushing my heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is a cute picture,” My newest cleaner, Cassidy, says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I look over at it. It’s a picture of Avery and I backstage when she won her first Grammy. She’s grinning ear to ear, holding up her award. I have a smile on my face as well and an arm wrapped around her waist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even though I had threatened Avery by saying I would throw all of her stuff away, I haven't touched it. I don’t go into her closet or touch her instruments. I avoid Bailey’s room at all costs. I’m certain that if I go in, I’ll break down all over again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But I can’t keep living with my ex’s and daughter’s stuff in my house. I’ve been on my own longer than I can remember before Avery came into my life. I can do it again. I need to put everything behind me and then I can move forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get rid of it,” I tell Cassidy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks at me in shock. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get rid of it,” I repeat. “In fact, that’s your assignment for today. Everything that is Avery’s needs to go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods and goes to turn away but I catch her arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t touch Bailey’s stuff,” I say softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I watch as Cassidy first starts with Avery’s clothes. Avery’s blazers, fishnet tights, and leather jackets are all thrown into bags. Her makeup and nail polish into another bag. Cassidy carefully sets Avery’s guitar in the trash can.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why the hell are you wasting time by being so careful?” I ask, ripping it out of her hand. “I’m throwing it away, not giving it out as a gift.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” She mutters and tosses the next guitar by the one that I had just destroyed by throwing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When it comes to Avery’s piano, I shove it next to the trash can on the curb so it gets taken away and then call it a day, sending Cassidy home. All of these items are Avery’s. They disgust me and only remind me of what Avery has done. She has ripped my love away. Bailey. My precious daughter who got sad when I was sad, who drew me puppy pictures where the dogs were green, blue, and purple, and who cuddled up to me every chance she got. She’s gone now and anything that I see of Avery’s only destroys my heart more. Her precious musical instruments that she plays every day are gone now. Just like my precious Bailey. There’s not a trace of Avery left. Avery is out of my life and her stuff is too. But the one thing that I miss is that the picture of us together hasn’t been thrown out.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Debra: Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next morning is a day where I don’t have anything planned but to work from home. I love to work from the privacy of my own home now. No one watches me and the only person I need to keep an eye on is Cassidy, who puts too much thought into cleaning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I grab a yogurt from the fridge and shovel the food into my mouth before I get started on work. I look around my house. It looks nice without Avery’s stuff all over the place. Maybe getting over Avery will be easier than I think. But then my eyes stop on something. The Grammy picture of Avery and I still sits above the fireplace, untouched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m livid as I crumple the yogurt cup up in my hand. I had told Cassidy to get rid of everything. But the picture is still there and two happy faces stare back at me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cassidy!” I snap, loud enough for her to hear me from wherever she is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She peeks her head around the corner and rushes to me when she realizes I am mad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why is the picture still here?” I ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just...I felt uncomfortable throwing that away,” She stutters. She can’t look me in the eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I told you to throw it away,” I tell her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, I’m sorry,” She says, bowing her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I laugh a little. “You’re fired. Absolutely fired.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassidy snaps her head back up. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t listen,” I shrug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She takes a shaky breath and I can tell she’s trying not to burst into tears. But I couldn’t care less. When I don’t have control, my body feels it. I get shaky and it gets hard to breathe. Cassidy has broken free from my control. I can feel my heart beating faster and I try to ignore it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you could work at McDonalds,” I tell her. “You don’t need to be good at anything to work there. So it’s perfect for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, a tear does fall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or you could work at Burger King,” I continue, walking over to the Burger King cup that sits on my counter. I pick it up and examine it. “You’re there all the time as it is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More tears fall from Cassidy’s eyes. She’s younger than me and in her early twenties. She probably hasn’t been in love and had her heart broken or been divorced. She for sure hasn’t had her kid ripped out of her life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So I don’t mind taking an extra dig at her so she knows how bad she’s upset me. She’s not the one in pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trash is defined as something that’s worthless. Something that isn’t useful. I guess that’s you since you can’t do a simple job.” I drop her drink into the trash can in front of me and kick it towards her. “Take the trash out. And that includes you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassidy sobs as she grabs the bag out of the can and ties it up. She runs for the door but I realize that I am missing something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” I call out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks back at me, almost hopeful that I’ll save her job. Instead I hold my palm out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Give me my key back,” I say. She wastes no time returning the small item before rushing out the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I place the golden key on the counter, staring at the door where Cassidy left. I’m so mad that a few tears escape and my breathing gets heavier. I walk back to the picture and take one last look at it before throwing it out of anger. It bounces off a wall and leaves a mark that I will have to get fixed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m all alone now. I have fired all of my cleaners. I can easily get more. But I don’t plan on it. I slide down the wall as I cry and put my head in my arms. Maybe I was never meant to get married or have kids. To confirm my thoughts, my twenty one year old self enters my brain and reminds me of what I told myself every day when I was that age. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only person who can hurt you when you’re alone is you. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sit in my once shared jacuzzi staring at the wall. I haven’t stopped staring at the wall in well over an hour. I shake as I hug my knees to my chest and I have bags under my eyes from not sleeping. The water is freezing and my lips will probably turn blue soon if I don’t get out. My damp hair falls around my shoulders, only adding goosebumps to my skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I am officially at rock bottom and there is no worse pain than this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I dare to break free from staring at the wall and I pick up the piece of paper that lays beside me. Divorce papers from Avery’s lawyers. All I have to do is sign the bottom. I don’t want anything to do with Avery or Bailey anymore. It’s best if they stay away from me. I’m an unleashed monster when I’m around people. I only cause harm. And these papers are proof of that. I need to be leashed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but remember all the times my mom said she was going to leave my dad. How it took so long for her to even make the decision. We should have had our own place, away from my dad. Now Avery and Bailey have their own place away from me. The similarities freak me out because even my dad has physically abused my mom. Just like I’ve done to Avery. The only difference in this scenario is that Avery actually had the guts to leave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I had always promised myself that I would be braver than my mom if I were ever in the same situation. But I’ve never thought that I’d be in the same situation as my dad was. My heart clenches at the thought because I’ve wanted to be nothing like my dad but instead we are exactly the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I am the reason these papers exist. I’ve been a horrible wife. I know that if I didn’t hit Avery and scream at Bailey, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t have fired every single one of my cleaners or be sitting in freezing water with wrinkled skin. I don’t deserve Avery or my precious daughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have to force myself out of the water or I would have stayed in forever. I drain the water and dry myself off before dressing in sweatpants and a tank top. I yank a brush through my tangled hair. And finally, I go to look in the mirror and expect to see a mess of a human being. But when I look in the mirror, all I see is my dad. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Avery: One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Bailey will never mean as much to you as your money does,” I bravely say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But I shouldn’t have said that because the next thing I realize is that Debra has slapped me. My cheek is stinging and I immediately touch my fingers to it. But even that is too painful. Debra looks just as shocked as I am and we back away from each other, scared. I’m glad she backs away from me as well because I don’t want to be anywhere near her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t come near me,” I say, shakily. That’s all I can think to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We continue to stare at each other for a minute. Debra is a harsh woman. I’ve known that since the minute she came up to me at a bar where they had hired me as the entertainment. I was twenty five then. A young woman who was struggling in the real world. Now I’m thirty seven and apparently my life is still a mess. And I have no idea what to do now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afraid that Debra will attack me again, I quickly tell her that I’m leaving with Bailey. There’s no way I’m leaving my daughter with this woman who has been anything but a mother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I all but run up the stairs and into Bailey’s room, who is trying to go back to sleep. I feel bad that I have to bother her again after we’ve woken her up once. But I know it’s the right thing to do, even if she doesn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, kiddo. Wake up,” I gently shake her. She’s already half asleep and if this wasn’t an emergency, I would question how she’s able to fall asleep so fast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shake her again when she doesn’t move.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wake up,” I say again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m tired,” She mumbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, but we have to go to Aunt Lily and Amanda’s,” I push.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not now,” She says and turns over so her back is facing me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I promise you can go to sleep when we get there,” I try. But still, Bailey refuses to move. I’m terrified that Debra will come into Bailey’s room. And the last thing that I want to happen is for Debra to hurt Bailey. I don’t want to but I work up the courage to get stern for Bailey’s own good. “I’m not asking you to, Bailey. I’m telling you to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bailey huffs and sits up. “Fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sigh in relief. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I throw clothes in a small bag for her because I haven’t made up my mind about when I want to come home. I put it on her little back and pick her up, trying to protect her from anything that could be thrown our way. But I sigh in relief when Debra isn’t in the kitchen when we pass through it to leave. Even though it is fall, I don’t bother wearing a jacket in the chilly weather. When we get into the car, Bailey immediately curls into a ball in the car and tries to fall back asleep as I drive to my best friends’ house, trying to figure out what to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I want to cry. I want to scream. I’m angry with myself that I’ve allowed something bad to get to something horrible. Debra has yelled at me more times than I can remember, but I have never thought she would hit me. I wipe the tears away that threaten to spill and hope that Bailey doesn’t see. She’s only a child and doesn’t need to worry about why I’m crying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When we pull up to Lily and Amanda’s, I have a new fear. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. Debra knows where Lily and Amanda live and I don’t want anything to happen to them. I could easily check into a hotel. There are so many in Los Angeles. But I dismiss the idea. I don’t want to be alone right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One look in my phone camera tells me that I can’t lie about what happened to Lily. Bailey is young, innocent, and tired. But Lily will be alert and shooting off questions every which way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And I’m right. When Lily sees my face, she pulls me in by my arm and Bailey follows. “What in the hell happened?” She asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you didn’t tell me that Avery was coming over,” Amanda says while she runs down the stairs. But her face becomes worried too when she sees me. She then looks at Bailey who looks confused because I still haven't told her why we’re here in the middle of the night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, kiddo. Why don’t you come with me?” Amanda asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m tired,” Bailey whines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we prepare the guest room for you then?” Amanda suggests. Bailey nods. And then Amanda takes my little girl’s hand and leads her up the stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before tonight, I trusted Debra with Bailey. Debra was harsh but it was obvious that there was still love in her heart for Bailey. But now I don’t want Bailey anywhere near her. If Debra has to take her anger out on anyone, it should be me. Not Bailey. But I know Bailey is safe with Amanda. Both Amanda and Lily take care of her like she’s their own kid. They’re the only other people I trust right now with her besides myself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sit in the kitchen and Lily sits across from me. She slides over a candy bar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I bought it for myself but I think you need it more,” She says softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I take it and rip it open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Avery, what happened?” Lily asks me softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t know how I’ve kept it together until now. Maybe it was the shock or the fear. But Lily’s words are all it takes for me to burst into tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She removed me from the label. I don’t have a job anymore,” I sob.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course you do,” Lily says, grabbing my hand to give me support. “Any other label will snatch you up in a heartbeat. You’ve had records that have broken the charts. They’d be stupid not to. Just like Debra is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sniffle a little. “We got into a fight and somehow it ended up on who’s the better parent. I don’t know how I let it happen, but she slapped me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Avery, this isn’t your fault,” Lily says slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s been horrible for years and I haven’t done anything. How is this not my fault?” I ask through my tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An abusive relationship is a tricky thing to get out of,” Lily says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If anybody knows what an abusive relationship is like, it’s Lily, who would show up at my doorsteps with new bruises. The red mark on my cheek seems laughable compared to Lily’s story. I put my head in my hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to do,” I groan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily thinks about it for a second before speaking thoughtfully. “If I could go back and leave the first time Monica hit me, I would. But I didn’t know she would continue to hit me and you don’t know now either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I look at her in surprise. “You think I should get a divorce?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily shrugs. “That’s for you to decide. I can only tell you what I would do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amnada comes into the kitchen. “Your kid is out like a light.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for dropping in on you like this,” I say, and decide to finally eat the candy bar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re always welcome here,” Amanda says softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you take the night to think about it?” Lily suggests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod. I don’t sleep that night. How can I sleep when the love of my life has shown me anything but love? Bailey snoozes beside me. I’m jealous that she doesn’t have a care in the world other than graduating second grade. I wish I could go back to second grade, where my parents still took care of me and I only had dreams of being a famous singer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, somehow I am famous and anything I do will make it to the internet in the matter of hours. You don’t think that your relationship status will be known by millions of people until you read an article on Buzzfeed about yourself. It’s happened before and I know it will happen again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before I know it, the sun rises and announces that I haven’t slept at all. I crawl out of bed and allow Bailey to sleep more, still feeling bad about waking her up. I find Lily in the bathroom who is dying her hair again while sitting on the bathroom counter with her legs and feet in the sink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey sleepy head,” She says, dumping container A into container B.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have room for another client today?” I croak out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I can fit you in my schedule,” she nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We both laugh softly because Lily is not a hair stylist. She’s an artist. A damn good one who deserves for her art to be shown to the world. Lily shakes the bottle and when it’s ready, she paints it on her freshly bleached hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need a divorce,” I finally say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If that’s what you need,” Lily nods. “I can take care of Bailey while you talk to Debra.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. I’ll just take her with me and make her stay in the car,” I say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily pauses to look at me. “Are you sure? I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really just need her with me right now,” I say. But then I say no offense so she doesn't think it’s anything against her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If that’s what you want then I’m not going to stop you,” Lily says. “I’ll dye your hair when you get back. Same thing as always?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod and then leave to get ready. I borrow Lily’s clothes since we’re the same size and after I make myself and Bailey eat some cereal, I figure it’s time to tackle the day and that starts with facing Debra.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stay in the car,” I tell Bailey. “I promise I’ll be quick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I slip on some sunglasses before getting out of the car and entering the house. Debra is in her home office working. I croak out a greeting to get her attention. There’s not much else to say to Debra and I still don’t feel comfortable around her, so I don’t know how much quicker it can get. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” She says back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I figure to just say the news that I’ve come up with. There’s no way to beat around the bush when there’s a divorce involved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can tell the words hit her hard and they’re unexpected. She closes her eyes for a minute. But I don’t expect her to say what she does. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s about time you have a good idea,” She says sharply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I am shocked by her words. I was prepared for an argument. Debra has an argument for everything. But I have to stay cool. I don’t want her to know how much this has affected me. She isn’t my wife anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have my lawyers send the paperwork over,” I say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Debra doesn’t miss a beat. “Great. I’ll sign them and send them back right away.  Don’t worry about Bailey. She’s better off with you. I’ll send money every month.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sigh and take off my sunglasses. At this point, I don’t care if Debra sees my swollen eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never thought I’d be divorced,” I say. Who gets married and thinks they’re not going to make it to death with their partner?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re telling me,” Debra grunts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I try to collect my thoughts. I really thought that Debra would have argued with me about this. But instead, she seems calm and collected. This is more proof that I don’t know my wife anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So that’s it? We’re just done?” I ask for confirmation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Debra stands up but keeps her distance from me. I’m thankful because I think if she moves any closer to me, I’ll flinch or cry, maybe even both. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Avery, you and I both know this marriage has been over long before now. You don’t need me and you know that,” She says firmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod. “I just need to get my stuff. And Bailey’s.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Debra glares at me. Maybe I have messed up twice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have until the end of the week to get it or I’m getting rid of it all,” She says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can get rid of mine, but don’t get rid of Bailey’s,” I say firmly. I don’t mind if I have to buy all new things for myself, but I don’t want her to touch Bailey’s stuff. Not her unicorn that she uses to sleep sometimes or her favorite book that I’ve read her thousands of times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then have it out by the end of the week,” She says again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I get mad and throw a comment about her mom into the conversation. She glares at me once again, telling me not to bring her up. I know mentioning her mom wasn’t the best comeback but I’m angry and hurt and I can’t think of anything else to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t take your own medicine?” I challenge her. “Just face it Debra. You’re too toxic for a relationship.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom!” Bailey’s voice shouts. “I forgot my homework!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I freeze. Shit. Bailey had never been the best listener. Make this mistake number three.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I told you to wait in the car,” I tell her sternly and sigh when she says her teacher will be mad if she doesn’t have it. Debra rudely tells her to grab it and leave. I’m not surprised when Bailey asks why. She’s always been a curious girl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you here,” Debra shrugs. When I look at Bailey, her small face crumples up. She’s about to cry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Bailey asks in a small voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Debra looks at me. “Maybe your mom could explain that better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Debra has dropped a bomb on me. How could she possibly make me explain this to our child when she’s the reason why I’ve decided to file for a divorce. She was the one who slapped me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you fucking kidding me, Debra?” I snap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We bicker back and forth for a minute about who needs to explain the divorce to Bailey and whose fault it is. But it doesn’t get anywhere. It only gets worse. And finally Debra snaps at the person who is least responsible for our problems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get it,” Bailey says, looking back and forth between us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s there not to understand?” Debra snaps. “We’re not a family anymore. Get out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Debra--” I try to reason with her but she isn’t having it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get out,” She says again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m frozen in place and Bailey begins to cry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get out!” She yells this time. “I don’t want you here! Both of you, leave! Go! Bailey, get out!” She yells, pointing at the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I scoop Bailey up and basically run to the door, thankful Bailey is so small. I will not let Debra hurt this little girl who has been nothing but kind to Debra. She’s so innocent and young and doesn’t deserve any of what she saw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Buckle your seatbelt,” I say as I throw the car into reverse to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We forgot Mama! We have to go back!” Bailey kicks and screams in her seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bailey!” I snap. “She yelled at you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bailey continues to cry and scream and I try to drown her out as I drive. I’m done with Debra. Let her throw my stuff away. Let her throw Bailey’s stuff away. Let her find someone else to abuse. Or let her stay alone. But whatever it is, I am completely done with the woman who I married. I am done with the woman who used to be the love of my life.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Avery: Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I don’t make Bailey go to school as we settle into Lily and Amanda’s house. Instead, we make a home in their guest room until I can figure out what I want to do. But my brain decides to fail and all I can do is sit in bed and stare at nothing. Sometimes, Bailey sits with me in silence, doing her own thing. Other times, she tries to ask me questions which are usually answered with very few words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will we go back home soon?” Bailey asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” I say, looking at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you still love Mama?” She wonders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” I croak out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bailey shoots me a confused look but gets distracted when Amanda knocks on the door. I’m glad Lily has Amanda. Lily deserves an Amanda more than anything. Someone who is kind, understanding, and puts other people before themself. But why couldn’t Debra be the same to me? How have I missed everything that Debra has done to me? I’ve been blind and now I’m paying the consequences of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey sweet girl, Lily is ordering pizza in the kitchen. Why don’t you go help her,” Amanda suggests. Bailey lights up at the word pizza and dashes out the door to make sure her preferences aren’t missed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shuts the door and sits on the bed with me. “How are you feeling?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can only shrug and Amanda gives me a small smile, reaching out to hold my hand. Her hands are soft and they immediately provide me comfort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know you’re always welcome here, right?” Amanda asks. I nod and she continues. “It’s been a few weeks. Don’t you think maybe it’s time for Bailey to go back to school?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I look down. “I haven’t been a very good mom. I haven’t left this room since I’ve gotten here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can drive her and pick her up myself,” Amanda offers. “The bar opens at four and I can have my assistant manager open. You need to work on yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re already letting me stay here, I can’t ask you to take care of Bailey too,” I protest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But Bailey has also basically been my kid since the second she was born,” Amanda argues lightly. “Lily and I love her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shrug and let out a whisper of an okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Amanda and Lily begin to take Bailey to school while I sit and continue to stare at what’s in front of me. Sometimes I just sleep the whole day. Other times, I cry so much I give myself a migraine that lasts for days. I wonder what Debra is doing. Has she moved on or is she struggling like me? I’ll never know, because I refuse to give into her again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a picture of Lily and I in her guest bathroom. We’re both standing outside a tattoo parlor with graduation caps on. Tattoos were our graduation present that we did together. Times were easier then. We had just graduated high school and we both decided that college wasn’t for us. There wasn’t a care in the world. But now there are so many things to care about and the picture that hangs on the wall only seems like a dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sigh and pull my eyes away from the picture. I decide to relax by taking a bath. Maybe the bath will help distract me from everything that’s weighing me down. I slip into the warm water when the tub is filled and let my mind wander.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily and Amanda have been gracious enough to allow Bailey and I to stay here. But what do I do when the time comes for us to leave? I can easily afford any home I want. It needs to be away from Los Angeles. Away from the trauma that being famous has brought me. I don’t want to be in the spotlight and I don’t want Bailey, who has made it to the cover of a few magazines, to be either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I take a deep breath and slide all the way under the water. It’s like time freezes. The only thing I hear are my thoughts as the water plugs my ears. I can’t hear the faint sound of the air conditioning or the occasional car outside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The public now knows about my divorce. Even though I want this to be behind closed doors, that’s never been an option. I’ve already gotten invites to come on talk shows about it. But I’ve turned them all down. How can I talk about something so devastating and that’s taking up my entire life with people who only care about the status and numbers of their show? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All I can do is barely make it out of bed some days. I’m not the person I was even a year ago. I can barely take care of my daughter and Amanda and Lily might as well be her parents now. I hate it. I want to be there for Bailey and do everything a normal parent would. But weeks have dragged on and my brain is still foggy and a huge weight still feels like it’s holding me down. I’m a waste of space living in my best friends’ house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If I stay under the water, will I eventually become too weak and drown? The thought doesn’t scare me right away like it should. It would be nice to stop the pain and the pressure that has been on my back for thirteen years now. If my heart stopped, everything would end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then it’s like I zap back into reality because the thought of killing myself scares the shit out of me. I break through the surface of the water, gasping for air as I scramble from the bathtub. I don’t even think to empty it. I just want to be as far away from the bathroom as possible. I manage to throw on a robe as I crash into Lily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Avery, I’ve been shouting your name,” Lily scolds. “I’ve been worried.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I must not have heard her under the water. But I’m so glad that Lily is here that I burst into tears and clutch onto her. She hugs me back, holding me close. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to die,” I sob. “I don't want to die.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Avery, what?” She asks me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to die,” I say again. I don’t know how Lily can understand me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Avery, you’re not going to die,” Lily promises me, holding me tighter. I continue to sob and we both clumsily fall to the floor together and I’m in hysterics, crying like my life depends on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t leave Bailey in a world full of abuse and hate. What would happen to her if I did? Would she go back to Debra, would Lily and Amanda adopt her? Or would she end up in some foster home that would barely pay attention to her and kick her out the second she turns eighteen? The thought of her without parents almost makes me sick to my stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to get you help, okay?” Lily says frantically. I know I’ve probably scared her just as much as I’ve scared myself. I feel guilty about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When my sobs have died down, I manage to pick myself up off the floor and get dressed. I crawl back into bed and make no plans of leaving. Lily is the one who has to drain the water in the tub and clean up after me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t eat and I’m thankful that no one makes me. Bailey eventually joins me and I pull her in tight for a hug. She looks surprised, but hugs me back with her little arms and nuzzles into me. I take in this moment, never wanting to forget it no matter what happens. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I kiss the top of her head. “You’re my sunshine and the only person I’ll ever need.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Avery: Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Avery?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I look up and my new therapist, Molly, waits for me to follow her into her office. I don’t want to be at therapy. I don’t want to spill my secrets to someone who I barely know. Someone who only knows me as an international star. Bailey is the only reason I’m stepping foot inside the office, even though she’s given me hell recently with her mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m lucky not to have divorced parents. Lucky to have two parents who are very much in love. I can’t imagine how confusing it must be for the eight year old to not see one of her moms anymore. But Bailey deserves better. Bailey deserves a lot better. And I don’t think I’m giving her a lot more than Debra right now, even if she snaps at me every chance she gets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sit down and get comfy.” Molly waves a hand towards the couch. She chooses the office chair. Molly is young. Probably my age but her blonde hair and blue eyes make her look younger. I wonder if she’s ever been married or has a kid. But her diplomas hanging on the wall prove her worth and that’s good enough for me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like to start by introducing myself so you know who you’re talking to,” Molly says. “Have you ever been in therapy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not like this.” I shake my head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We all gotta start somewhere, right?” Molly asks and then dives into a quick introduction about herself while fiddling with a pen on her desk. Graduating at the top of her class at Harvard University impresses me. I wonder if it would impress Debra but I quickly erase the thought from my brain. A husband and a dog that she loves more than anything in the world. Snowflake was my dog and I miss him more than anything in the world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now it’s your turn,” Molly prompts me. “What brings you to therapy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, my wife hit me?” I cringe at my own awkwardness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Molly raises an eyebrow at me. “She just decided to hit you out of nowhere?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a long story.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s hear it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I made her mad and she hit me,” I say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You just said it was a long story.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can tell she doesn’t believe me but all I can do is shrug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Avery, I’m legally not allowed to let any information you tell me leave this room.” She motions around the room with her pen. “If I’m going to help you, we can’t skim through trauma. No dicking around.” She winces. “Sorry, I do cuss. I feel like it’s just more real that way. Is that okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Totally.” I nod my head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready to work?” She asks me. I nod again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Molly takes out a notepad and writes my name at the top. She asks me who I am. How I grew up. What it’s like with the whole world knowing my name. She asks me who my wife is. How she came into my life. All the things that happened in between meeting at the bar and the moment her hand connected with my cheek. This was the easy work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About nine years ago, her dad’s girlfriend stalked me before she died and then five years ago our house was broken into,” I tell her. She writes everything down after giving me a concerned look. And then finally, I’m allowed to explain what happened the night I walked out. I even add in that I wanted to drown myself for a second.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time my hour is up, I’m exhausted. We’ve only gotten through a fraction of my life, the one that seems most important right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good job, Avery.” Molly stands up to walk me out of her office. “We’ll start the real work next week.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I get to my car, I notice my lawyer’s business card sitting on the passenger seat. The divorce papers that were sent to Debra haven’t been signed. But somehow I can’t get myself to care enough to do anything about it. If I don’t have to see her anymore, it’s suddenly good enough for me. When I get home, Amanda shyly slides up to me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t need to be a whole thing but Bailey told me to shut up today,” She says softly. I look over at Bailey who is watching some reality show on TV.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bailey, we don’t tell people to shut up. Especially our own family members,” I say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re not family. Also, why don’t you shut up?” She says, not even taking her eyes off the TV.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sigh and pull out alcohol from the freezer. When one of your best friends owns a bar, there’s always alcohol available.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” I sigh. “Want a drink?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gives me a soft smile and takes the alcohol from my hand. “I’m the bartender. Why don’t I make you a drink?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but agree.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda mixes our drinks up and hands me one. On a long, exhausting day, the alcohol burning in my throat is welcoming. Even the fuzzy feeling. I spill to Amanda about the therapy appointment and Amanda tells me about how she had to call the police after a bar fight. Lily even comes out from her art studio.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oooh drinks.” She throws her hands up in celebration and steals some of her wife’s drink. “By the way, Bailey told me to shut up today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bailey!” I snap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugs her shoulders. “What did I do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Lily says and takes another drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honey, I can make you your own,” Amanda offers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would I do that when I can just steal yours?” Lily smirks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like you stole my heart?” Amanda grins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily laughs. “You’re so not the cheesy type.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My heart aches to watch them be in love. Amanda and Lily have a love that will last forever. I just know it. They kiss each other good in the morning and again at night. They hold hands and cuddle. They do everything that I want. Debra isn’t an affectionate person at all and it’s only on her terms. It makes me miss the small touches even more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Bailey says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bailey!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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